


You Know My Name

by idiom



Category: Tenet (2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Anal Sex, Clothed Sex, Espionage, M/M, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:47:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28277112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idiom/pseuds/idiom
Summary: The Protagonist has a name now… It’s Bond… James Bond…»»-------------------10:00:01Agent: 007Code name: ProtagonistLocation: London HeathrowMission Status: Complete»»-------------------James Bond returns to London to take on yet another mission for MI6, but who is this mysterious new agent they’ve partnered him with?
Relationships: Neil/The Protagonist (Tenet)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 77





	You Know My Name

**Author's Note:**

> Tenet James Bond AU  
> Title from Chris Cornell’s opening song - [You Know My Name](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YnzgdBAKyJo)
> 
> Me: *pounding fists on table* Black James Bond. Black James Bond! BLACK JAMES BOND!
> 
> Sorry (not sorry)… anyway… The Protagonist has a name now… it’s Bond… James Bond… :P
> 
> I came up with this thinking to myself: what if I took the original intention of Tenet (Christopher Nolan making a time travel spy drama) and just reverted it to a regular spy drama? That’ll be fun right? Also an opportunity to write gorgeously slutty (affectionate) BondGirl™!Neil
> 
> Once you see the [ xxx ] that’s where the smut starts so skip it ( or _to_ it ;P ) if you want~!

»»-------------------

10:00:01

Agent: 007 

Code name: Protagonist 

Location: London Heathrow

Mission Status: Complete

»»-------------------

James stepped off his chartered jet after a long flight over the atlantic from Kingston, Jamaica. He took a moment to survey his surroundings and stretch his legs before he sauntered down the steps and onto the tarmac. As soon as his polished oxfords touched the runway, an unmarked, black car pulled up in front of him. The driver stepped out and opened the back door. 

Without a word, James climbed inside. He barely got a moment to settle into the back seat when his duly expected company piped up. 

“Did you enjoy your holiday, 007?” The woman sitting across from him asked as soon as the driver closed the door behind him. Her grey streaked hair was tied back into a tight updo, keeping the length of it off the silver-embroidered shoulders of the pearly suit she wore. She was a canny, formidable figure in her old age. Her shrewd dark eyes were on him with stern judgement in her glare.

“Holiday? I wouldn’t call it that.” James drew his hand along his jaw, scratching his beard. It had been a tiring flight over, but he was prepared. There would be no escaping this. “Just maintaining my cover.”

“Forgive me,” the woman drawled. “I supposed I should ask how your properties out there in the West Indies are fairing? We heard from our local sources that you hosted a party soon after your arrival last week. I didn’t know it was your...birthday.”

“It wasn’t. Just trying to keep up appearances,” James replied with a suppressed smile. “In this world where someone is claiming to be a billionaire, a little get-together on a private beach with a few friends goes a long way.” 

The response he got for that answer was a chesty scoff. “A _little_ get-together? A little get-together that involved flying in what I can only assume was the entire runway line up from the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show in New York on the British tax-payer’s dime isn’t exactly the most affordable way to keep up appear—”

“You really seem well-rested, Priya,” James cut in, changing the subject as he shifted in his seat as if the movement could help him escape the verbal lashing she was giving him.

Priya huffed at the interruption, her gaze shifting to look out the window as the London city traffic rushed past. “It may surprise you, 007, but I would say the entirety of MI6 sleeps better when you are not out on a mission.” 

“So why call me back now? Seems like you all could have benefitted at least another week.” James smiled wide earning himself another narrow glare.

“I called you back because, as usual, we have an unsavoury mission involving heavily tattooed russian arms dealers and weapons-grade plutonium that you are miraculously best suited to handle.”

“I resign.”

“Well, good luck paying back the cost of that private jet.”

“That was a joke.”

“I know.” Priya eyed him with a poorly masked twinkle of amusement in her gaze before passing over the file she’d been holding in her lap. 

“Welcome back, 007.”

»»-------------------

By noon, their driver had dropped Priya off from a meeting at the Home Office before driving James to MI6 Headquarters. James walked into the building with the swagger of a man who all-but owned the place. Naturally, being a double-0 agent garnered him a certain mysterious appeal. With the file for his latest mission in one hand and the other tucked neatly into his pocket just so the bulging shine of his new watch was on display, he stepped between his co-worker’s desks. 

Already, he surmised, the gossip in the secretarial offices had probably started up and the other agents would all be wondering what covert mission was hidden away in that file. What exotic location could the government be sending him off to next?

Smiling privately to himself, James walked over to his spartan, rarely-used desk and sat down heavily in his chair. Slapping the file down in front of him, he opened the confidential-marked folder containing his new case file. 

“Ah… Berlin,” he whispered to himself with a disappointed sigh. Not exactly the luxurious or exotic locale he’d been hoping for, but definitely score one for places full of Russian gang members. 

Just as Priya had said, the target was an arms dealer who was using the notably eccentric city as a base for his gang’s European operations. He’d been on the MI6 radar for a while, but hadn’t sparked enough interest to send in operatives until his bosses back in Moscow began changing up his orders and getting him in contact with new suppliers, suppliers who may or may not have been linked to a wider criminal organization. This man wasn’t just running guns to the local racketeering rings anymore, rather much larger and much more nuclear weapons to international despots.

James perused the file, his dark eyes scanning every word and taking in every picture. The heavily tattooed Russian Priya had mentioned before was called Volkov. Whether that was his real name or not was of little consequence. He looked bad as they came in an almost stereotypical manner with his shaved head and glaring eyes, but in reading his bio, James knew he’d dealt with far worse.

The goal of the mission was to use Volkov to find his contact in Moscow. They wanted the one giving the orders, not the little man taking them. Once the information was retrieved, Volkov was expendable and James already knew getting rid of an international arms dealer would be the easiest trigger he’d ever pulled. 

James continued scanning through the multi-page file, analyzing documents, figures and photographs until footsteps approaching his desk caused him to shift his focus.

“Good afternoon, 007. Nice to have you back in one piece.”

James smiled at the familiar voice he’d only been hearing in his earpiece the past few months. “All thanks to you, Q.”

He’d turned his gaze to look up at Q, the mysterious anglo-french mission coordinator, scientist, inventor and genius allrounder that MI6 had been so lucky to recruit back in the day. There was a time when he’d first started, James had tried to find out her real name with a little dip into the MI6 personnel files. The information, of course, had been inked black—strictly confidential, like everything else down in Q Branch. 

“You have the new mission?” Q asked, her glassy blue eyes shifting to the file splayed out over his desk. “Priya sent me the details earlier. I just wanted you to know I’ll have a few things waiting for you tomorrow morning. You and your partner should already have a timeslot scheduled to come by and gear up before your flight.”

James frowned. “My partner?” 

“Oh, haven’t you got to that part yet?” Q raised a brow. “I didn’t take you for a slow reader, 007.”

“I’m not…”

Before a smirk could fully curl over her lips, Q turned to leave shooting back, “If you say so,” over one shoulder.

James scoffed down at the file before him and shifted more quickly through to the mission details section. He eventually came across the Berlin travel day details. He was expected to report for a morning briefing with Q at 10:00:00, nothing unusual there. After that he’d be flying out in the early evening the next day. He and Passenger 2, whoever that was, were departing at 17:00:00. 

As hard as James searched, there weren’t any additional details on Passenger 2. He supposed that would come out in the morning briefing as well. Priya was usually very particular about who she sent out on missions, but there were a few job types she considered _interchangeable_ to some extent. If MI6 had recruited a reverse spy or were sending a honeytrap along to seduce Volkov, well, it could be either a secret or anyone willing to play the part. Maybe the candidate hadn’t even been selected before Priya’s secretary printed out the file?

James set the documents aside with a hum. He preferred working alone, but it could be fun to have a partner sometimes, if they were up for some fun, that is. Smiling to himself, James supposed he’d find out more who the mysterious Passenger 2 could be in the morning. 

»»-------------------

James woke bright and early wanting neither as he was greeted by a ray of sunlight passing through his uncurtained windows. He tried and failed to cover his eyes with his forearm, hoping to get a few more glorious minutes of sleep. But inevitably, with a groan, he rolled out of bed. 

James hadn’t stayed in London for any stretch of time long enough to properly decorate the flat he had purchased at the start of his career. He preferred escaping to his properties in Jamaica whenever he wasn’t on a mission. His London flat, as high-end as it was, was more of a commuter apartment than an actual home. He hadn’t decorated or filled it with anything that even remotely resembled a personal touch. No photos, no hobbies, hell, not even a tv. It was purely functional, a place to sleep, a place to keep a second set of clothes. That was all he really needed.

James pressed a button and a sliding glass door opened to reveal a closet full of suits tailored for every occasion. Single tone shades from black to navy for the winter to off-white and grey for the summer. It was a travel day, so he chose a burgundy coloured number with a tie to match.

Suited up and ready for the day, James grabbed his valise and left the apartment, knowing he probably wouldn’t see it again for another few weeks at least.

A black cab drove him up to MI6 headquarters and he tipped the driver handsomely before stepping out onto the pavement. The office was fairly quiet at past nine. Most of the staff were either already hauled up in their morning meetings or offsite on missions.

James checked his watch and saw he had about fifteen before the briefing with Q. It was just enough time to grab an espresso before he headed down to the labs. 

With his cup and saucer carefully balanced in one hand, James made his way through the curving halls. At an intersection of two corridors just before the elevators, he saw the familiar figures of agents Ives and Wheeler having a chat. They were both laughing at something the other had said before they noticed James approaching.

“007, I didn’t know you were back already,” Wheeler greeted him with a nod. “Saw the mission in Cairo went well.”

“Hey, if it isn’t the party man, himself,” Ives laughed. “How was Jamaica?”

“Four. Five,” James said, casually greeting the other double-0 agents, slowing his pace as he passed them. “Either of you happen to be partnering with me on this next mission?”

The two of them looked to one another before they both shook their heads. No. 

“We’re both heading to Oslo tomorrow,” Ives explained. “Some Freeport scam needs looking into.”

“Yeah, we’re both on that all month. I did see the new guy pass by around here a minute or two ago,” Wheeler noted, nodding down the hall toward the elevator. “Pointed him in the direction of Q Branch. He might be with you.”

James followed her gaze. “New guy, huh?”

Ives shrugged and gave him a sympathetic smile but no comment. 

“If they’re planning to get his feet wet, my guess is they’re sending him out with our most _capable_ agent,” Wheeler said ironically. “That or Priya’s trying to force you to do things by the book for once.”

“I do things by the book,” James protested.

Wheeler raised a brow. “By the book by the book? Or next to the book by the book?”

“Cowboy shit,” Ives piled on with a smirk of his own.

James scoffed at that. “Alright, alright,” he muttered, leaving them in the hall as he continued towards the elevator. With a mock salute, he gestured goodbye. “Catch you two on the flip side.”

“Good luck, 007.”

“No cowboy shit!”

“Yeah, yeah. Heard you the first time, Ives.” James settled back into the elevator, shaking his head until the door closed on the other agents’ smug faces.

The Q Branch labs were in the basement far below MI6 Headquarters. Anyone who wanted to get in on their own needed the highest level of security clearance, a level of clearance not even double-0 agents had. The brains down in the labs, led by Q herself, had long since learned not to let the MI6 agents pluck up their own supplies willy-nilly. You either had to be a high-level lab tech or the bloody Queen herself to get past the waiting room without an assigned escort.

The elevator doors opened to the sparse white walls of the Q Branch lobby. A few uncomfortable looking metal chairs sat around, all positioned neatly in front of a heavily reinforced door. There was a single intercom, but James knew damn well for certain there was never anyone on the other side. Q was his assigned lab escort this morning, but it wasn’t quite 10:00:00 and she was punctual to a fault, deigned ever to show up to let him in early. 

When James stepped off the elevator, he almost missed the only other person in the waiting room. The man was sitting with his legs stretched out in front of him on one of the chairs right next to the elevator door. If James hadn’t happened a glance to his left he might have been completely in his blindspot.

The man seemed half asleep, his sunken blue eyes hooded, but judging by the way he was flipping through the manila folder in his lap, he was very much awake. He was rather good looking but not in an axiomatic sort of way and he had a calm air about him, a posh sort of manner that made him come off as…well...expensive. From his neatly gelled hair to the red silk tie and pocket square that perfectly match the crosshatch tones in the pattern of his tweed suit all the way down to the polished black oxfords on his feet...he looked expensive.

James paused, eyeing the stranger for a moment. Most MI6 agents were mindful to dress up while still dressing down. Tailored suit? Fine. Good hair? Naturally. Bold fashion statements that tended to stand out in a crowd? For a spy, that wasn’t particularly ideal.

“You must be the new guy,” James said as he sauntered over to the man.

Heavy-lidded blue eyes lifted from the documents, seeming to trace the entire line of James’ figure on their way up. “And you must be agent 007,” the stranger said with a smile. “Hi, I’m Neil.” 

Placing the folder on the chair next to him, Neil stood and extended a hand. “No numbers just yet. No _foreboding_ license to kill either. Just Neil.”

“Bond, James Bond.” He shook Neil’s hand in a firm grip. “I have to admit, I’m used to them assigning women with me on these types of operations. A tall, white, British man isn’t exactly the more progressive choice.”

Neil raised a brow. “You did read the briefing, didn’t you?”

James sucked in a breath, getting pissed now that people kept questioning him on that. “You know, I get the feeling Priya likes to keep me in the dark on some things. Maybe she thinks it helps me stay on my toes, keep my edge.”

“Well, policy is to suppress,” Neil huffed, sounding a little amused by his description of their boss. “Tell me you at least know who the antagonist in this story is?”

“Volkov, yeah, I got his profile.” James scratched his beard thoughtfully. “Russian. Arms dealer. We need to figure out who he’s working for and we’re gonna find a way to do that in Berlin.”

“Yes. Seduce the information out of him, as it were,” Neil said with a charming smile James was sure had done plenty of seducing in its day. “Surprising as it may seem, this particular Russian hasn’t been seen to be—how do I put this delicately—swayed by the fairer sex.”

“Put delicately as a Jane Austin novel,” James said with an amused huff. “I didn’t see that detail in my file, but if that’s the case, I could have just dealt with him alone.” 

“Oh?”

James tucked his hands into his pockets and tilted his head back. “People talk to me. I have ways of getting them to… open up.”

Neil let out an incredulous laugh, shaking his head. “Well, as true as that may be, intelligence has shown that Volkov has what we like to call a _type_. Rather fortunately for you that _type_ isn’t tall, dark and handsome, broad-shouldered, masculine men with rather luxurious beards.”

James raised a dark brow. “So they’re sending in the posh twink? What am I along for then? Protection?”

Neil’s smile spread wider at his playful banter. “Naturally.”

“Fair enough,” James chuckled, rubbing his beard. His gaze shifted to Neil, lowering at a deliberate pace, as if he was trying to prove something. “So, you think I’m handsome, huh?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, 007,” Neil replied with a wink before turning away to pick up his file once more. 

James tilted his head to one side. His pursed lips parted, ready with a teasing retort, but before he could get it out, Q stepped off the elevator and into the waiting room. She gave the two of them an odd look, her eyes narrow and curious, but she didn’t comment on what she had or hadn’t heard before coming in. 

“Come along, gentlemen. Lots to do.”

Sharing an amused glance the two men followed Q as she beeped them through the triple layer of security doors and into the labs. 

“I’m sorry to say there isn’t anything very exciting for you in the way of new tech this morning,” Q explained as she walked them through the lab, passed a few other lab techs milling about and toward a table with a line of small gadgets laid out. “Firearms are strictly prohibited in Germany, but we know you’re very good with your hands, 007, so MI6 is not worried.”

“Good with his hands, is he?” Neil purred.

“Alright,” James cut in. “What do you have for us then?”

“Listening device, standard issue. Comms, standard issue. Bullet and slash proof layer, standard issue. Drink test kit, checks for tranquilizers and nerve agents, standard issue. You’ll be intercepting Volkov at his club so we’ve gotten you on a VIP access list. Other than that, this—” she handed something that looked like a phone to Neil “—is what you will be using to decrypt and copy Volkov’s phone data. It’s simple really, just get it near his device, follow the prompts and it will do the rest.”

“Clever,” Neil murmured, slipping the device into his pocket. “Anything else?”

Q turned her vacant gaze to James and handed him what was for all intents and purposes…

“Is this a selfie stick?” James demanded.

Neil’s lips quivered as he bit back a laugh.

“Don’t worry, it’s been reinforced with steel,” Q said with a barely-perceptible smirk. “It’s a weapon, it’s compact, expandable and best of all it will get through airport security.”

James pulled off the cheap plastic camera holder and flicked his wrist so the telescoping metal would extend to its full length. “Okay, got it.”

“If you find yourself in need of another weapon, you’ll have to improvise,” Q noted. “I suggest knocking out one of Volkov’s men and stealing theirs.”

“Great suggestion, Q. Never would have come up with that myself,” James replied blithely as he and Neil continued packing their gear on and slipping the listening pieces into their ears. 

“Sound check on comms,” Q said.

“Good,” James answered at the same time as Neil said, “I’m good.”

“And the recorder is receiving you,” Q nodded. “Alright then, let’s go over the plan...”

»»-------------------

After a quick flight, they landed in Berlin and headed directly to their hotel. MI6 put them up at the Regent not too far from Volkov’s club on the east side of Mitte. They’d been given a suite with two rooms and a shared sitting area in between. 

With both their doors opened, James could catch a glimpse of Neil passing back and forth in the threshold of his open bedroom. Wet, with a towel around his waist, he moved from the shower to the dresser, then he reappeared with just his trousers on, returning to the bathroom and finally back with his shirt partially unbuttoned as he sorted his hair out the mirror hanging on the back of the door.

“You good on the plan?” James asked as he watched Neil getting himself ready. The man’s routine was far more extensive than his own. He’d just put on pants and slipped his wires and the layer of slash-proof padding under a maroon coloured button down. The added set of silver cufflinks were the only extra touch he went for. 

“Get eyes on Volkov,” Neil started as he ran his fingers through the perfectly arranged strands of his hair, “once we have eyes on him, try to engage. If he engages, get him alone or just get close enough for long enough that we can copy his phone data undetected.” Neil tapped his lips, eyeing himself thoughtfully in the mirror before he went on, “If Volkov does not engage, plant a tracker on him or one of his men. Tracker planted, we regroup, find out his secondary base of operations in Berlin and formulate a new strategy with that information in mind.”

James raised a brow. Neil had practically repeated Q’s briefing spiel verbatim. “Good memory.” 

“I wouldn’t be in this line of work otherwise,” Neil replied with a soft chuckle. After one last look in the mirror, he straightened up and turned, catching James’ eye through their open doors. 

“How do I look?” he asked, tilting his head back and cocking his hip to one side. Today’s fashion was a pastel, bengal-stripped number and a pair of off-white chinos. 

James shook his head, they were like night and day. “You look like every gay-Russian-mafia-arms-dealer’s wet dream,” he drawled.

“Oh, you flatterer,” Neil said with a pleased-with-himself hum. “Are you ready to go? Volkov’s people will have settled in by now.”

“As I’ll ever be,” with a heavy exhale, James stood from the bed. “Let’s dance.”

»»-------------------

Volkov owned a three story building in Berlin’s east end borough. MI6 knew the location right off the Spree made it ideal to act as a storehouse to some extent, but local authorities had never found anything in their searches—likely because they were being paid good money _not_ to find anything. 

James parked them a block up the road and he and Neil joined the Saturday night crowd of revellers in the streets, drinking out in the open on their way to wherever they were going. There was a line at the club entrance, but they were on the guest list.

“Somerset, party of two,” James said with a smile while Neil stood behind him, doing his best to look vaguely bored.

The guard at the door glanced between them. “Not seen you around before, Mr. Somerset.”

“I’m new in town.”

“Visiting from America?” The guard did very little to hide the twist of disgust in his tone as soon as he heard James’ accent.

Well, he hadn’t _not_ been expecting that. James opened his mouth to reply, but Neil cut him off. He leaned over James’ shoulder, pouting into his ear.

“Baby, I’m cold,” he whined. 

James’ eyes went wide, but the bouncer only chuckled as he tapped his tablet. “Well, we can’t have that,” he said as he signed them in. “Enjoy your stay in Berlin.”

“Thank you,” James accepted a stamp on his wrist and walked in through the door with Neil at his side, thankfully without making a pass at the bouncer apart from a little wink. 

“What was that?” James whispered, knowing his voice would get picked up in Neil’s comm.

“He was asking too many questions,” Neil murmured back, a smirk in place when James looked over. “I just wanted to hurry things along.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I am, now let’s head to the bar and you can make a show of buying your ridiculous partner a ridiculously expensive drink.”

James shook his head. They approached the bar and he waved down the bartender to do just that. James ordered two martini’s and they leaned back against the counter to wait, taking the opportunity to survey the club. 

The VIP lounge was in a cordoned off area up a set of metal steps, high above the revellers down in the club level below. The old warehouse that had been converted into a club and still had a lot of its metal railings and strange storage alcoves, perfect for creating little secret nooks for lounge seating and open areas for the dance floors.

“I spotted our man,” Neil whispered, tilting his head into James’ neck as he spoke. “Bar corner. Two o’clock.” 

James pointedly didn’t look that way for a long while, when his gaze shifted as naturally as he could make it seem, he noticed Volkov’s eyes were on Neil and he forced back a scowl.

“Well, intel was spot on. I think you’re his type,” James muttered as he took a sip of his drink. “We should figure out—” before he could finish, Neil’s face broke out into a wide smile. He plucked his drink and stepped away from the bar.

“Don’t wait up for me,” he said and with a quirk of his brow he was off leaving James to hide his horror as his partner sauntered right up to their target. 

“Fuck,” he hissed. Turning back around, he swallowed down his entire drink. Shaking his head, James waved over the bartender for a second. With grit teeth he listened in through the comm link.

»»-------------------

Volkov’s eyes were shining with a particular type of glee when he shooed away the rough looking gangster who’d been sitting next to him, making room for Neil to sidle on up to the couch.

“Hello, handsome,” Neil purred as he settled in at Volkov’s side. 

“Привет, мальчишка. Hey, boy,” Volkov murmured, his voice a low flirtatious rumble.

Neil melted into the sofa, tuning into an entirely new person. “I don’t even know what that means, but I just love your accent,” he said, his voice a simpering drawl.

“You speak Russian?” Volkov asked. 

Pursing his lips adorably, Neil shook his head. “Nothing but the Queen’s I’m afraid.”

“Is not a problem.” Volkov chuckled, earning himself a charming smile.

“Lucky me.”

“Tonight, maybe even more so.”

A fluttery laugh escaped Neil and he slapped a playful hand to the mobster’s chest. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” he purred, though he didn’t bother removing his hand from where it was splayed next to the buttons of Volkov’s too-tight polo shirt. He played with the part, his finger flicking the fabric aside to expose more of the man’s collar.

“I am always ahead of myself... Is that your boyfriend?” Volkov asked suddenly. His gaze was pointed straight ahead, glaring over Neil’s shoulder. “This man you came in with. You were talking at the bar. He did not look so happy when you walked this way.”

Neil followed his eyeline back towards the bar where James was pointedly not looking at them in such an absolute fashion it made it plainly clear he knew exactly what was going on on that couch. All of the audio was transmitted directly into his ear. 

Sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, Neil turned back to the man at his side. 

“Boyfriend? Sure.” He leaned in close, pressing his chest to Volkov’s muscular arm. “Call it what you like. We…work together.”

“Да, конечно. Yes, of course,” the Russian chuckled before knowingly repeating the word. “Boyfriend,” he said as his hand fell to Neil’s leg, giving it a firm pat before sliding tattooed fingers up his thigh. “If your boyfriend doesn’t mind, I would like to get to know you better.”

Neil wet his lips as that hand slipped higher and higher. Thick fingers dipped into the crease of his inner thigh, slipping up until the back of the man’s fingers brushed against the top of his inseam.

“If you’re interested, we could take this somewhere more private,” Neil purred. Leaning in close he let his lips brush against Volkov’s ear. “My _boyfriend_ can work out the details with your—” Neil’s gaze shifted a little warily to the men surrounding them “—comrades a little later.”

“Да _._ Yes,” Volkov grunted. “Details later. Now you come with me.”

Neil put on a shining smile. “I’d be delighted.”

»»-------------------

“That was quick,” James muttered to himself once he was securely outside the club. 

“Neil’s good at what he does. I’ve seen his previous mission reports,” Q’s voice responded over the comm link in his earpiece. “Now hurry up before you lose them.”

James rushed surreptitiously towards where he’d parked the car and hopped in. Volkov’s men had already brought his Mercedes around and they took off with Neil before he could start the engine. 

“Leaving the club separately wasn’t part of the plan,” James muttered knowing it was likely both Q and Neil could hear him.

“Focus, 007,” Q snapped. “I can see on the monitor Neil’s heart rate isn’t elevated. We can assume he’s fine.” 

They both heard a soft hum through Neil’s comm link as he affirmed that fact without being obvious.

“See,” Q murmured. “But, if that changes we need you there, 007.”

James grit his teeth as he drove about a block behind Volkov’s men, keeping an eye on the GPS and the little orange tracker that pinpointed where Neil was. He wasn’t expecting Neil to go off with the men like he did, sure to some private back room, maybe, but not out of the building. 

They didn’t have any intelligence on where else Volkov was located in Berlin outside the club so if they found any MI6 gear on Neil or threw out his tracker, James didn’t even wanna guess what could happen before they found him, probably dead in some decrepit old warehouse on the edge of the Spree.

The tracker stopped moving in some residential area of Friedrichshain. James pulled in to park his car up along a side street. He stepped out and walked around to eye the rather large private property along a tree lined road. Through the branches, James could just make out the silhouette of Neil’s form walking with Volkov. The man escorted him inside the building while two guards remained outside.

“Q?” James whispered.

“That building has a backdoor for the domestic staff. You can access it around the side street and should be able to pick the lock.”

James huffed. “I’m not the best locksmith, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“I’ll walk you through it.”

With Q’s reassurance, James casually made his way down the street. The guards paid him no mind as he passed around the block a few meters away. 

He stepped up the back street and into the narrow alley between the two properties. There was indeed a door with a thin ray of light shining out of it onto the dark street. Conveniently, a young man wearing a white-aproned kitchen staff uniform stood a few steps away with his back to James. He was talking on the phone in German, clearly aggravated with someone on the other end of the line as he cursed them roughly between puffs from a recently lit cigarette. 

James slipped behind him unnoticed, pushed the door open a tiny bit further and passed through the gap with barely a sound.

“I’m in. Going quiet on comms,” he said under his breath.

“Good luck, 007.”

As James stepped through the halls, the slight rattle of staff milling about in the lower floors and the kitchen echoed distantly. Behind him, the German chef was still ranting into his phone so he knew he had time. 

Straightening his cuffs, he moved through the halls as if he were meant to be there. As he passed intersections, even if a cleaner caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of their eye, the staff paid him no mind. 

Checking his phone, he could see the little blip of Neil’s tracker still going strong, heart rate steady. James followed that blip through the house. It was right on top of him, but he had to assume that meant the bedrooms were upstairs. 

Pulling out his selfie stick, James extended the baton as he came around a bend in the hall. One of Volkov’s men was standing guard in the entryway between the front door and the steps. He seemed more interested in whatever he was watching on his phone than his actual job.

James approached him silently and with a single blow to the back of the head, he knocked the guard unconscious. James caught the big lug easily, but his phone went clattering to the floor. 

James froze. There was a moment of silence. When no one came to check on the noise, he dragged the guard off to the nearby sitting room and deposited him in a chair before retrieving his phone and placing it in his hand. He’d wake up, phone in hand, his little video still playing and never even knowing what had hit him.

Checking the halls once more, James crossed back into the entryway and took the stairs up to the second floor. There were no guards in the upper hall, but a door opening forced James to slip into a dark windowed alcove. He stood there, waiting for the newcomer to pass and notice him. 

As soon as they passed, James extended his baton once more and reached out. He grabbed the man’s shoulder earning himself a startled gasp and a firm grip around his wrist. Thankfully they made eye contact before James could bring the baton down or get his wrist snapped, whichever would have come first. Wide shock-blue eyes locked with a deep brown gaze and they both exhaled their relief.

“Neil,” James sighed. “Thank god.”

“Christ, 007!” Neil hissed though there was some amusement in his anxious tone. “You nearly scared the life out of me! How did you get inside?”

“Staff entrance. We should head back out that way.” James lowered his arm and took a step back, eyeing the halls before focusing his attention on Neil. “Are you okay? Volkov didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“Not a scratch! I don’t think he even considered it.” Neil pursed his lips, hiding a smirk. “Oh, 007, were you terribly worried about me?” He lifted a hand to pat James’ bearded cheek, tittering when the other jerked his head away, rolling his eyes.

“I was a bit, yes. Without reason, apparently,” James huffed, taking a moment to catch his breath now that he knew Neil was alright. “How’d you get Volkov to let you up to his room alone?”

“Well, once he’d firmly got it in his head that I was a rent boy and you my souteneur, as it were, it was all quite a simple transaction, really.” 

James frowned. “Did you have to…?”

Neil cocked his head to one side and rolled his eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic, 007. Of course I didn’t. I drugged his tea and left him passed out on the bed with his pants around his ankles while I searched the room and copied his phone data.”

“Drugged his tea, huh? Appropriate.” James chuckled as he lifted his palm. “You got the name of his contact.”

“Yes, but you’re not gonna like it.” Neil reached into his pocket and dropped the copied phone data into James' hand. “Wasn’t much paperwork in his room, but I checked his phone after I copied the data. Contact’s name is Andrei Sator.”

James groaned. “Shit.”

“That’s what I said.” Neil chucked though there was little humour in his laugh. “Andrei Sator’s firearms racket and this entire underground nuclear arms race seem to be intertwined in a manner we can’t possibly begin to unravel.”

“But we are beginning to, aren’t we.”

“Yes, I suppose we are.”

James frowned, but they didn’t have time to get in on how Neil, a new addition to MI6, knew about Andrei Sator. The fact that the man had been plaguing the international security monitors for years was entirely classified. He wanted to ask, but they had to get out first.

With Volkov and his main interior watchman both knocked out cold, it was easy enough for James and Neil to sneak back down into the basement. James led the way back past the distracted, unseeing staff and out through the staff entrance. 

“Q, I’ve got Neil, we’re in the clear. Did you catch all of that before?” James whispered as they stepped out of the back alley and walked up the street behind Volkov’s residence.

“Nice work, both of you. Andrei Sator.” Q hummed a low pessimistic tone. “Not comforting information to uncover. I’ll pass on word to Priya as soon as you report back safe at the hotel.”

“Thank you, Q.”

No one saw them leave even when they passed the open intersection, heading back towards the parked rental car. The guards standing outside on Volkov’s stoop were too busy enjoying a cigarette break to pay them any mind.

“How long exactly have you been with the agency, Neil?” James asked as he drove them back to the hotel. “You seem to know a lot more than you let on.”

“I only just started with MI6, but it pays to be informed in our line of work.” Neil winked at him. “Why don’t you buy me a drink back at the hotel, hm? We’ll have a few and if we're still standing, and you still care, then you can hear my life story, okay?”

“Still standing, huh?” James said with a private smile. “What’s your drink?”

Neil mirrored his expression with a smile of his own as he replied, “Vodka tonic.”

»»-------------------

They didn’t get to Neil’s life story, not the full thing anyway, not that night. About two drinks in at the Regent Hotel’s cocktail bar, James couldn’t help but ask, “So, you’re new, but you’ve definitely done all this before.”

“Done what before?” Neil shot back. By the little gleam in his eye, James could tell Neil knew exactly what he was asking, but the man wasn’t going to let him get by without elaborating.

“ _This_. I mean—” James huffed out a laugh, not really sure how to put it. “Do you often play the honeypot, Neil?” he said finally, not mincing words.

“Define _often_.” An amused hum rumbled in Neil’s chest. “I suppose I wouldn't call it my specialty, but I have gotten the opportunity from time to time. It’s good fun, isn’t it?”

“Opportunity?” James leaned back in his seat. “Okay, I now have to know...Where exactly did you work before MI6?”

Neil tossed his drink back before answering, “MI5. I’m a transfer.” He cast James a sideways glance as a little smirk curled in his lips. “Not as exciting as you’d imagined, hm? My jobs before were mostly anti-fraud and low-risk espionage so this whole international counter terrorism thing has been a real treat.”

“Huh.” James tilted his head back, a bit surprised to hear that. “Lot of domestic opportunity for your style of persuasion? Who’s MI5 looking into?”

Neil shrugged, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling as he listed his prey, “Politicians, businessmen, executives, lords… anyone with more than a few pennies to rub together, really. You’d be shocked at the amount of blackmail the British government has collected on its own citizens.”

“As a more recent immigrant from the NSA nation, I can’t say that I am.” James chuckled into his glass. He was about to take another sip when a thought came to mind. “What about me?”

“What about you?” Neil all-but purred, resting his chin in one hand, staring at James with those hooded blue eyes of his.

“Priya wouldn’t have sent you out here with me if you weren’t the best at what you do,” James noted, reveling in the little flush of pride that passed barely seen across Neil’s cheeks. “You think you’d be able to get me to spill classified information?”

“Oh, of course!” Neil burst with a single loud laugh. “So easy, Bond.”

“You could have at least thought about it for a second,” James huffed.

“I didn’t need to.” Neil leaned over and swiped a finger down along James’ lapel. “You, Bond, would crack under me like a little egg.” 

James raised a quizzical brow, curious at Neil’s unshakable confidence. “I’m highly trained to withstand torture, you know that right?” 

“Again, don’t be so dramatic,” Neil drawled, rolling his eyes. “I wouldn’t torture you, 007. All I’d have to do is get in, nice and close, lean over you and whisper.” 

Neil moved in as he said this, his chest pressed to James’ arm, his breath hot against his lips. “It’s all so simple really.”

“Just a whisper, huh?” James replied. “What would you whisper exactly?”

His eyes flickered down to Neil’s lips and watched the pink line curve into a smile.

“Come across into my room tonight and maybe you’ll find out.”

»»-------------------

They ended up in the suite barely a quarter of an hour later where Neil insisted on having another drink. He snatched up the bottle of wine left to the guests as a courtesy gift and poured two glasses full to the brim. 

James found himself on the couch with Neil pressed into his side in a position not unlike the one he’s seen the other man use in seducing Volkov. Despite this uncanny similarity, James had to admit, he enjoyed the warm press of Neil’s torso at his side. Neil leaned into him with one elbow rested on the back of the sofa. They clinked glasses and Neil sipped his wine without breaking eye contact as James did the same.

“So, what did _you_ do before MI6, 007?”

“Is that really what you whisper to all your targets?” James asked with a raised brow.

Neil huffed. “Lord, no, I’m just warming you up.”

“Alright then,” James chuckled. 

“What? You can’t blame me for being curious,” Neil said with a teasing smile. “You have to admit, an American working for MI6 raises a few eyebrows.” As if to demonstrate Neil extended a finger and poked the creased ridge just above James’ favoured brow. “How did you even get this job? I’m positive there's a nationality eligibility requirement.”

“My mom was Jamaican-British. Wasn’t hard to get a special exemption on the nationality front.” James trew back a quarter of his glass of wine and grimaced. “God, this shit’s nasty.”

Neil chuckled. “It’s free, of course it’s awful. Now, what did you do before this?”

“US Military. Then CIA.” James shrugged casually. “Worked a few coordinated effort jobs with the British Secret Service a couple years back and afterwards Priya basically recruited me to come work on this side of the Atlantic permanently.”

At the mention of Priya’s name, Neil let out a tittering laugh. “She seems to take immense pride in filling out her ranks, doesn’t she?”

“She roped you in too, huh?” James asked with a smirk twisting his lips hidden away in his beard.

Neil groaned miserably around the rim of his glass as he swallowed down another sip. “I was an easy catch, if we’re being honest. MI5 is terribly dull. My missions always seem to involve a lot of tired old men with beer guts and power fetishes who simply couldn’t resist embezzling money from the government.”

James snorted out a laugh. “You ever have to fuck any of those tired old men, Neil?”

Neil pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Only if I was in the mood.”

“Seriously?” 

“Mmhm. You know, nearly every single one of them seemed to have the same inclination toward wanting me to sit on their laps and call them ‘daddy’.”

James nearly choked on his last sip of wine. “Fuck.” Coughing violently, he set his glass down on the coffee table. 

“Yes, it’s more common than you might think,” Neil mused, as he gently patted James’ back.

“So,” James went on after eventually regaining his composure, “you, uh, often in the mood?”

Neil’s gaze dropped from his eyes down to his lips before raising up again, heavier and filled with a thirst for more than just wine. “Often enough,” he replied in a smooth, dulcet tone.

James paused to wet his lips. “How about tonight?”

Setting his glass aside, Neil chuckled. “Well, that Russian was sorely lacking so I suppose you’ll have to do.”

“Tease.”

“All part of the job, 007.”

“James.”

“James,” Neil purred right back at him. His eyes dropped, hooded gaze flickering down between the spread of James’ thighs before snapping back up. “So, are you a daddy’s lap kind of man, or so you have something else in mind.”

James chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ve got something else in mind.”

“Thank god,” Neil breathed as he leaned in, closing his eyes. Their lips met with a wave passion somewhere between a crash and a surge. Neil fisted one hand in the front of James' shirt and moaned desperately into his mouth.

xxx »»-------------------

They moved from the couch into the bedroom, leaving a trail of gadgets behind as they went. Both stripped their wires off and tossed their earpieces into a decorative bowl in the entryway. Neither were keen to have Q Branch listening in on them, though considering their line of work the entire room was probably bugged anyway. Some lucky (or rather unlucky) Q Branch operator was going to get quite an earful. 

Having kicked off his shoes and slipped out of his socks, Neil sat on the edge of the bed, slowly working the buttons on his trousers. James bent over him, his hands cupping the length of his neck, thumbs caressing the skin beneath his jaw. Tilting his head up, James arched down for a kiss. The moan that spilled from Neil’s lips and into his mouth sent a titillating vibration through James’ head, making his mind go blank as he deepened the kiss further. 

Heat tore through them, rushing over their skin every place they touched. Neil’s kisses were wet torment, forceful and insistent as he tried to coax James’ tongue into his mouth. When they parted for a gasping breath, the tip of Neil’s tongue traced James’ upper lip and he smiled around a soft chuckling laugh.

“Do you often seduce your operating partners, James?” Neil murmured, letting their lips brush with every word. The bare millimeters between each contact tingled with a spark of static electricity. 

“Oh, I’m the one doing the seducing now, am I?” James chuckled as he ran firm hands over Neil’s neck and shoulders, massaging him through the fabric of his shirt.

Neil groaned under his touch. “Undoubtedly from my perspective.”

With an assertive press to Neil’s shoulder, James sent him cascading back against the soft sheets. He hit the mattress with a gasp while James remained standing at the foot of the bed, his legs positioned between Neil’s spread thighs. At a deliberate pace he pulled his belt slowly from its loops, dark gaze never once leaving Neil’s flushed features.

Neil’s eyes fluttered half-closed as his breathing started coming in soft, airy huffs. He arched back with a heavily exhaled sigh allowing James room to undress him, easily slipping his chinos off his long legs and leaving him in just his shirt and pants. 

With one hand Neil deliberately flicked at his buttons, undoing them one at a time. Gazing up at James from beneath dark lashes, he teased, “Still the wet dream?” 

“Every bit,” James replied without an ounce of hesitation. With a badly hidden smirk, he leaned over Neil’s body once more and jerked his pants off with one pull. He was sure he’d torn the elastic as the waistband got caught around one of Neil’s ankles, but the man didn’t seem to mind. Naked except for the now completely open shirt barely hanging off his shoulders, Neil was a beautiful mess. His hair had long since come out of its neatly coiffed style and hung in disarray around his passion flushed features. 

James nearly groaned at the sight of him. He pulled back and started to undress himself in a hurry. However, as soon as his hands reached the button at the collar of his shirt, Neil’s voice cut off his movements. 

“No,” he said suddenly, reaching out lazily as if to stop James before he could undo the second button.

James paused, raising a brow. He glanced down and back up, warily. “No?”

“Leave it on,” Neil instructed firmly. “I do love ruining a man’s suit.”

“Shit,” James whispered, but he complied. 

He tumbled over Neil as he climbed into bed, breaking his fall with both hands flat against the mattress above Neil’s shoulders. The move drew a soft huff of laughter from Neil before James could turn it into another moan with the press of his lips.

Slowly, James lowered himself down onto Neil’s body, enveloping him. He let the weight of his hips settle between wide spread legs and they both groaned at the sensation. Somehow James felt heavier, like he was smothering the man beneath him with him being so fully clothed and Neil being so utterly bare. 

Neil bit his lip and thrust his naked cock up against the friction of James’ suit trousers. 

“You like that, huh?” James chuckled, earning himself only a low moan from the man writhing beneath him. He dipped down to capture Neil’s bitten-red lips as he matched the upwards roll of his hips with a steady downward thrust. His movements stuttered when Neil slipped a hand down over his abdomen, untucking his shirt with an impatient yank before sliding his fingers into the front of James trousers and under the tight waistband of his pants.

James cursed softly when a tight grip settled around his cock. Neil’s fingers drawing along his girth sent a shuddering spark flying through him, bouncing every which way before hitting his chest and bursting out with a heady groan.

“Let me see you,” Neil whispered.

Not one to need orders given twice, James pulled back just enough so that he was kneeling between Neil’s legs. The man’s blue eyes were on his fly as the zip came down steadily. James tugged his pants down under his balls and with no small amount of heft he lifted his cock out of the front. The sight had to be utterly obscene from Neil’s point of view but, judging by the way his jaw slackened, in a _very_ good way. 

“Oh, fuck me, James.”

“All part of the plan.”

Neil wrapped his arms around James’ back, drawing him down to cover him once more. He scratched his fingernails across James’ shoulder blades sending pleasure roaring down through his spine even through the fabric of his shirt.

“Do you—”

“My pocket,” Neil murmured with a wink even as he panted in the midst of their passion. “Pays to be prepared.”

“Boy scout,” James teased. He leaned over to snatch up Neil’s trousers where they’d ended up about an inch away from falling off the far corner of the bed. He found the condom and the sachet of slick easily enough and set about prepping the man who’d started trembling beneath him in anticipation. 

James rolled to the side slightly, laying next to Neil for a moment so he could have more room to play with his hole while they licked fervently at each other’s lips. Moaning, Neil spread his legs wide, one thigh remaining trapped between James’. He pressed up with it, caressing the heavy length of James’ cock while the man readied him to take it deep.

Neil was more panting against his lips than actually kissing by the time he was ready. James had opened him up enough to start steadily thrusting his fingers inside, feeling around for the places that made him groan and shudder. 

When Neil’s eyes rolled back and a whisper of, “James,” left his lips, that was the signal. 

James moved into position between Neil’s thighs, spreading kisses down his neck and over his collarbone as he went. He let his full lips run over the tight peaks of Neil’s nipples, enjoying the sensation as they hardened beneath his touch. He teased those sensitive buds with his tongue and teeth while reaching between his own legs to take hold of his cock. He rolled on a condom before pressing his tip to Neil’s tight, slick hole. 

Neil’s jaw clenched visibly as James tracked the head over that tight, needy ring of muscle.

“James,” he hissed when he pressed every so slightly inside before pulling back.

With a chuckle, James pulled back slightly, slipping his knees under Neil’s open thighs. He lifted Neil’s hips into his lap as he positioned his cock and sank in deep. The twitching grip of Neil’s body, holding his cock and pulling him in, sent an intense jolt through James’ abdomen. He bit his lip when he bottomed out, pausing to catch his breath.

Neil was twitching against him like he’d been shocked. He rolled his hips and again the surge seemed to electrify his body. James could only imagine the tip of his cock touching some hidden button that was sending bolts of pleasure rocketing through Neil’s vibrating form.

“You’re so deep,” he managed to clench out from between grit teeth. “Please...”

No further prompting needed, James dove in. His bode drove forward, hips canting into the strong, supple body beneath him. 

Neil’s back arched up off the bed. Every thrust drew the breath from his lungs. Short panting breaths quickly cleared the way for choked moans. Each time James lunged forward, Neil shook, his body jarred by every rush of ecstasy.

Heat coursed through them, growing with the increasingly frenzied pace of their love making. James’s hands slid over Neil’s torso, rolling his nipples between his fingers as he fucked hard and fast. Neil snatched up one of his hands and led it over his abdomen, down between his legs to where his cock was hard and twitching as it spread sticky wet pre-come over his stomach.

James brought his other hand down to grip Neil’s ass, pulling him back into his thrusts more firmly. At the same time, his hand closed around Neil’s aching cock. 

It barely took two jerks of his fist around the tip for a strangled cry to force itself from Neil’s gasping lips. Neil threw his head back and came up off the bed. His legs tightened around James’ hips, drawing him in as deep as he could possibly go. Their chests pressed tight together, Neil’s bare skin to James’ clothed torso.

James groaned at the sensation. He arched over Neil, thrusting harder, urging Neil to succumb to the overwhelming pleasure as he rode him through his shuddering orgasm. 

Neil’s body tightened around him, his slick entrance flexing furiously as his heart, pounding in his chest, worked overtime pumping pleasure through his veins. James could hardly pull back against the man’s heels digging into his lower back. He gripped Neil’s cheeks hard, finger’s squeezing supple flesh as he jerked forward and came.

They collapsed, coming down hard from the climax, Neil’s arching form going lax against the mattress while James groaned as he barely held himself up with his elbows pressed to either side of Neil’s head. They both panted heaving breaths against each other’s lips before James slipped his forearm beneath Neil’s head, tilting him up so their kiss could turn those breaths back into muffled moans.

“Your reputation is _very_ well deserved, Mr. Bond,” Neil managed to exhale as they broke apart. His breathing was starting to even out somewhat but there was still an airy wisp in his tone.

“Thank you,” James murmured, more than a little amused by that.

“Next time, I want to touch you,” Neil hummed as his fingers trailed over the collar of James’ sweat-dampened shirt down to the open waistline of his trousers. 

“Well, who’s idea was it that I keep the suit on?” James retorted even as he felt a pulse of happiness surge through him at the thought of there being a next time.

Neil chuckled before muting himself by pressing his lips to James’.

They kissed, slow and languid until the ecstasy of the moment melted away into bliss. Neil wasn’t lying when he’d mentioned ruining James’ suit. Shaking his head with an amused smile in place, James pulled off his now sweat-stained and cum-soaked top and used it to wipe them down before tossing it off the bed and laying once more in Neil’s arms. 

Reaching up, Neil took the opportunity to trace James’ defined torso, biting his lip as muscle rippled in the low-light beneath midnight-dark skin. He chuckled deeply when his fingers traced the deep angle leading down between his legs and James’ cock made a valiant twitching effort to rally. Laughter soon dissolved into another chesty moan, muted by the touch of James’ lips.

xxx »»-------------------

“Hey, Neil?” James murmured between soft kisses. 

“Hm?” Neil hummed against his lips.

James pulled back to stare down into Neil’s hooded, barely-open blue gaze. He’d relaxed back into the mattress, his body alluringly prone beneath James. 

“You still haven’t told me,” James noted.

“Haven’t told you what?” Neil’s voice was a lazy drawl as sleep tried to take him in the afterglow. James couldn’t take his eyes off those handsomely blissful features, a smile spreadings slowly over his lips. “You haven’t told me what you’d whisper... to get me to talk.”

“Oh...” Neil tittered a delighted little sound before repeating the same thing he’d said earlier, “So easy.”

“Go on then.” James chuckled as he rolled onto his back and nudged one of Neil’s languid thighs with his own. 

With a petulant groan, Neil rolled onto James’ chest. With his palms spread over the muscular expanse, he leaned over him, so close that their lips were brushing. His hooded blue eyes locked with James’ dark gaze and he whispered:

“Tell me all your secrets, Mr. Bond.”

»»-------------------

THE END

»»-------------------

**Author's Note:**

> Yeeeee~ Tenet smut <3
> 
> I’m thinking of doing a part two of this for the “let’s take out Andrei Sator” portion of this MI6 mission, but I guess it’ll depend on if anyone really wants it! So lemme know! 
> 
> You can [find me on tumblr](https://itsanidiom.tumblr.com/), share the [fic post](https://itsanidiom.tumblr.com/post/638352929559052288/you-know-my-name-pairing-the-protagonistneil) if you know anyone who’d like it~! <3 
> 
> Your comments cast JDW as the next James Bond ;P
> 
> Your kudos tell Neil all of your secrets <3


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